


The Turn

by Zimra



Series: I Wish the Wars Were All Over [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimra/pseuds/Zimra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tides of fate can turn from good to ill in the blink of an eye, and no one knows this better than young Morwen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Turn

The messengers came from Brethil a few months after the sons of Galdor left to be fostered by their uncle, Lord Haldir of the Haladin. Lady Hareth went to greet them with a smile, eager as always for news from her brother, but she had exchanged no more than a few words with the men before her expressive face turned somber. 

Her sons were missing, the men from Brethil told her sorrowfully. Both of them had been separated from the main party during a raid, and the other warriors had found no trace of them since. If they had not been captured, they were lying dead somewhere or wandering lost in the forest - but every effort was being made to find them, they assured her. If there was news of their whereabouts, she would be the first to know.

An eerie silence fell at once over the household; no one dared to speculate on the fates of young Húrin and Huor, or at least not where their mother could hear. Galdor returned from Eithel Sirion several weeks after the news reached them, and by then most of the servants and townspeople had concluded the worst. The lord of Dor-lomin was gracious in his grief, consoling his wife and speaking kindly to Morwen and ruffling Rían’s dark hair. But he could not stay for long, not with Orcs threatening the northern borders of High King Fingon’s realm, and he soon departed for the front again with a heavy heart.

Hareth, who seemed suddenly to have aged ten years, donned mourning clothes and continued overseeing her husband’s lands with her usual competence. Rían, a silent little shadow dressed in black, stayed close to the lady’s side. Morwen, ever solemn and dutiful, took the mourning as well, as befitted Húrin’s betrothed. There was never any talk of sending her and Rían away, and in fact Hareth gave Morwen more responsibility over the household than ever. One day she took the girl aside and said, “I promise I will find suitable marriages for you and Rían, but until then you are welcome in my family.” 

Morwen did not smile, but thanked the older woman and squeezed her hands tightly. 

That night Morwen couldn’t sleep. She pictured Húrin, sitting on his horse and grinning, waving to her as she stood in the courtyard waiting for them to depart; and Huor, only fourteen and already as tall as his father, gallantly accepting a bouquet of wildflowers from Rían. She remembered how Húrin had kissed her on the cheek before saying goodbye. _Take care of Rían and my mother while I’m gone,_ he had told her, taking her hand. _I’ll be back before you know it._

When at last she fell asleep, her dreams were troubled. She still slept in the same room as Rían to help ease the younger girl’s frequent nightmares, but tonight it was Morwen who woke up screaming and thrashing, unable to rid her mind of the sight of her grandmother lying in the entrance of the house, cut nearly in two by an Orc spear. Adaer had stood her ground in the doorway to protect her two granddaughters hiding within, shielding them until the soldiers cut her down. Morwen could still remember the sharp terror of that moment, one Orc seizing her roughly while another wrenched Rían out of her grasp, but with her death Grandmother had delayed their foes long enough for Baragund and others to arrive and rescue the girls. 

That night it was Rían who was startled awake by the sound of her cousin crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed, and the sight of her frightened face and big dark eyes only made Morwen cry harder. She gathered the child into her arms and rocked her back and forth, clinging to her until the worst of the memories faded. 

By the time Morwen had regained her composure and soothed the distressed eight-year-old back to sleep, she was so exhausted that she did not dream for the rest of the night.

Another season passed with no word of Galdor’s sons, and they had long since given up expecting any. Lady Morwen, as the people had begun to call her, grew taller and lovelier with each passing month, her manner more gracious, though she was colder than the lady Hareth. The servants marveled at how she had changed - from a ragged fugitive, proud in her fear, to a reserved but kindly girl who could smile freely, and now to this somber young woman with a deep understanding of how quickly good fortune could change.

When the messengers came again from Brethil, Morwen half-expected more bad news. Perhaps the lady Hareth's brother had been killed, or they had found her sons' bodies at last. But as she watched from the doorway, she saw Hareth's resigned face suddenly transformed with joy, and she dropped the basket she was carrying and ran to the lady's side. Hareth embraced her, weeping and saying over and over, "All will be well now, child. All will be well." 

Soon the news had spread throughout Dor-lómin: Galdor's heirs had been found alive and safe, and were on their way home.  

For the next few days, Hareth exploded in a flurry of activity, sending word to Galdor and furiously planning a great feast to welcome her sons home. Morwen remained in a state of frozen shock. On the day of their arrival, she let the maids help her dress without really noticing what she was wearing, and sat quietly as the Lady of Dor-lómin herself braided her future daughter-in-law's hair and adorned her with some of the family’s finest jewelry. 

The morning of the feast dawned bright and clear, and Morwen stood with Hareth and Rían in front of the house, waiting. As the riders thundered into the courtyard, led by Lord Haldir and several of his men, a great cheer went up from the assembled guests and onlookers. Morwen found she was holding her breath as she searched among them for Húrin and wondered what she would find. But nothing about him suggested that he had been lost in the wilderness for a year - he looked taller, older, more lordly, and there seemed to be an air of responsibility about him, as though he had been charged with some important task. 

She watched as he dismounted from his horse and greeted his mother, who looked happier than Morwen had ever seen her. Then suddenly he stood before her, and they stared at each other for a long moment, Morwen's face impassive, Húrin's slightly apprehensive.

He knew her well enough to keep quiet until she chose to speak. At last she mumbled, "It is not seemly of you to have kept me waiting for so long." 

Húrin's expression turned grave, though she could see his hands were shaking. "I know am at fault, my lady. I will do everything in my power to make things right between us, and I hope one day you will be able to forgive me."

She burst into tears and flung her arms around him, and after a moment of shock he returned the embrace, holding her as though he never wanted to let go. For once Morwen did not care that everyone was watching them. Hareth's words appeared suddenly in her mind -  _all will be well, child_ \- and for the first time in years they even seemed possible.


End file.
